


Compilation

by Siver



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Compilation, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11433447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: Gathering the small stuff posted on Tumblr that doesn't fit in the other groups and are really too small to post on their own, though I have stuff already posted that should have wound up here, but organization is happening now. All over the timelines. No theme. Beware spoilers.





	1. Partners

Alma sighed and opened her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Lately it had been Jowd who had trouble sleeping and when he did sleep he was plagued by nightmares. While he thankfully seemed to be sleeping peacefully now, it was her turn to struggle as worries ran in endless circles through her mind.

She slowly got up being careful not to disturb him and slipped out of the room. Maybe a drink would help. She wanted tea, but Cabanela had stayed and she didn’t want to wake him, though if she was going to be honest she partly hoped she would, so she could talk to him.

As it turned out she needn’t have worried. A lamp was on in the living room and Cabanela was still sitting up. He bent his head back to see her approach.

“Biiiit late for a stroll, isn’t it?”

“Look who’s talking.” She came up from behind and rested her arms companionably on the back of the couch beside his head. A glance at the clock told her it was nearing 2:00. Sigh. “You know, when you sleep here the expectation is that you sleep.”

“How can I sleep and miiiss out on the lovely hostess keeping me company at all hours?”

“Well, in that case this ‘lovely hostess’ was thinking of tea. Do you want some?”

“Sounds looovely.”

Soon they were both sitting on the couch with a mug each. Alma nestled into the cushions against the couch arm while she cupped the mug in her hands. Cabanela remained in his customary stretched sprawl. It would have been very comfortable if not for the worry still dancing in her mind. She suspected it was those same worries keeping him up as well, but now that she had the chance she wanted she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

“I’m used to late hours, but what has you joining me?”

Alma ran her finger around the rim of her mug. “I can’t seem to sleep tonight. I’m … worried about Jowd.” She hesitated then let everything out in a tumble of words. “Ever since that day … at the park. Or I suppose the morning after. At first I thought I was imagining things or that what happened just shook him. Now I’m sure there’s something else, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what. And you know that morning he was up before me? When I came down I discovered his antique gun was gone. I asked why and he just said he’d rather see a picture there now.”

She leaned forward.

“I catch him sometimes looking at me as though … as though he can’t believe I’m here. Or he’ll hug me just a little tighter and longer. But nights are when things get bad. He hasn’t been sleeping well and he’s been having so many nightmares, but he won’t talk about them. He insists he’s fine but I know he’s not.”

She sagged suddenly feeling drained. “Do you … know anything? Have you noticed anything?” she was almost pleading.

“He likes his secrets, but I’ve been watching, keepin’ score. That day after he wasn’t too careful, was he?” He gave out a small laugh but it had a bitter edge. “He thanked me that day. I’m all for thanks, but can’t say I was feelin’ too deserving of them then. Wouldn’t say for what naturally and he mixed it in with other talk, but it happened and that was enough to put me on alert. You’re not the only one gettin’ odd looks.”

“I wish he’d talk to us,” Alma sighed. “I know it’s useless, but I tried asking anyway. Of course it went nowhere so I’ve only been able to watch for anything I can, but he’s suffering.”

“He’s maaade himself into a tough case, his mistake. I always like a challenge.” With a flourish he held his hand out to her. “But a detective couuuld use a partner.”

A small smile lit Alma’s face and she took his hand. “Partnership accepted.”

He released her hand and raised his mug. “To us, baby.”

She clinked her mug against his. “He won’t know what hit him.”


	2. Blinded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts in prison

It becomes easier to believe the lies of the mind in darkness. A promise. A remembered pistol in his hand. Blood on her chest. Blood on his hands. A single shot fired.

During the day, in the light it becomes harder. He’s acquired a newspaper, one article in particular. It’s pinned to the wall, a useful reminder.

Detective in murder case.

Detective murders wife.

A shot fired. One shot.

Blood on _his_ hands.

Keep her safe.

Murder.

He misses them dearly and despite the pain looks at their pictures regularly. It’s hard not to. It’s harder to do so. 

There is joy in their eyes at the time the photos were taken.

There is accusation in his wife’s eyes.

There is blame in his daughter’s eyes.

As well there should be.

It’s funny isn’t it, how the eyes of one in a photo can look so empty?

Her eyes were empty, staring lifelessly at the ceiling.

So much red on her shawl. She is wearing that same shawl in the photo. He can only see the red.

They don’t stop watching him.

He can no longer stand their gaze and picks up his brush and black paint.

She deserves a peaceful rest. A gentle dab over her eyes. She doesn’t deserve to see her murderer. A quick stroke of paint across her sight.

She needs to avert her eyes. Another gentle stroke of paint. He’s not her father; he’s her mother’s killer. Draw the brush across and cover her eyes. Forget the nightmare.

She is at rest.

She is protected.

They are free of him.


	3. The Day After

Yesterday he had one set of memories. Today he has always had two.

Yesterday he was alone. Today he wakes up alone and has to remind himself that Alma left for work early. Yesterday he had a broken family of two. Today he has a whole family of four.

Last night he was a criminal awaiting execution. Last night he was a detective chasing a lead with his partner. Last night he died twice. Last night only his friend claimed death by boredom on a stake out. Last night he regained a friend and a loyalty he didn’t deserve. Last night they had never been apart. Last night they sought closure for a five year old case. Last night they caught a prime suspect in their current case. Last night he left his friend behind battered with a silent promise to finish it. Last night he and his friend worked together and debated who won this part of the case.

Last night he saw fate change. 

Today he wakes up late from a long night, but satisfied.

Last night they chased down a lead. Last night he was reminded of the tedium of stake outs. Last night he tasted victory of a hard won catch. Last night they argued over who won this round; he stills says he did, but barely; he’ll give him that much.

Today he receives a phone call from his friend and can only guess at half said things and a very quiet thank you. Today he can only wonder at the relief he hears in his friend’s voice.

Today he feels as though he has another mystery to crack with answers he can’t even guess at.


	4. Duality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New timeline Jowding

It’s the details that get him.

It’s waking up in his bed, in his room, in his house with his beloved wife beside him very much alive. It’s not a narrow prison bed, in a cell, with only the memories of her body bleeding out on the floor to keep him company.

It’s the slip of the tongue and Cabanela’s laugh. “Inspector? Not yeeet, baby. I’ll get around to it!”

It’s Kamila building increasingly more elaborate contraptions and having to suppress the urge to pull them apart. They’re safe. Nothing will happen.

It’s remembering that it hasn’t been five years since he last saw Cabanela. The day before, the weekend, dinner, a nearly daily occurrence. Only he holds that distance that no longer exists.

It’s keeping track of what he knows and should not yet know. Waiting on clues he knows are coming, answers to cases he has no way of possessing yet.

It’s the expectation of the regular phone call. Not necessary, not exactly wanted, not really. But ever present.

It’s spotting and buying a certain pocket watch without being able to explain why, only that it doesn’t feel right to leave it there.

It’s the crackle of electricity, the sight of the ocean, remembered depths, bullets and shards.

Memory was a tricky thing, malleable, not unlike painting and he’d grown good at that.

He lied to protect. Buried the truth deep enough to lose sight of it.

The fault in his logic was clear.

Now they’re safe. Now they’re happy. The horrors no longer exist. Now he lies to preserve.


	5. A Not Entirely Unusual Evening with D-99

The Special Prison had Rules and the guard always did his best to make sure they were Followed to the Letter. The consequences of breaking certain rules in particular didn’t bear thinking about. Besides the three prisoners weren’t so bad really. Even the most dangerous, well the guard still couldn’t bring himself to believe _those_ charges and he was always courteous to all the guards when meals were brought.

And so it was on another evening much like any other that the guard brought D-99 his dinner, the weekly roast chicken. Or rather he was making the attempt to do so again. His first attempt failed when he found the prisoner asleep and he didn’t want to disturb him.

But, one way or another Dinner Could Not Be Missed, especially for this prisoner, and the thought of a certain angry face in particular bearing down on him was enough to give any man nightmares.

Thankfully this time the prisoner sat upright. The guard shifted his grip on the tray to open the cell and planted a nervous smile on his face.

“Oh you’re awake. Good dreams?”

D-99 looked distant before a broad smile split his beard. “They were a good reminder.”

“Oh?” the guard asked as he entered and set the tray down. “Of what if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Of why I’m here.”

The guard swallowed. “I-I see. Well er, enjoy your meal. Sorry for the lateness. I’ll leave you to it.”

He hurried out. Yes, he still couldn’t help his respect for Detective Jowd. And yes he still had trouble believing he’d committed murder of all things, the Great Detective Jowd! However, his own beliefs didn’t prevent the man from being downright unsettling.


	6. But She Can Only Listen

It’s nearing midnight. Only a single white shadow drifts through the cemetery lit under a soft moon. 

“Hey, Alma. Sorry I’m late.” Cabanela kneels down and places a bouquet of flowers in front of the stone. “Your husband was makin’ my job hard again.”

He straightens and sinks onto the bench instead. “He requested the death penalty. Could’ve done it myself.” Of course that’s a lie that couldn’t be more obvious than any of the nonsense Jowd spewed, but he knows he’ll never forget the mixture of rage, despair and outright denial that the request brought forth. How dare he?

“It was denied. Didn’t think he’d go so far. You married one stubborn idiot.”

He pauses before continuing, “Don’t say I’m not one to talk. Thaaat’s determination, baby.”

A very soft sigh barely audible trickles out to be lost in the breeze. “…I wish you were here… I can’t figure out what’s goin’ through that curly mopped head of his.” Not truly. He has his theories, many at that, however they bring him no closer to answers and nothing solid to work with. “You were always better at getting him to talk. Suuure I knew when something was buried under that beard. I could find the clues, find some answers whether he wanted to talk or not. This one…” The words nearly get lost in his throat. “This one’s been tough.” Gods, it hurts to admit it. She always was good at getting him to say the things he would rather not have to as well. “I promise I won’t let him join you.”

And if he did get his way (somehow, over Cabanela’s dead body), maybe Alma would boot him right back out of those pearly gates. How dare he attempt to leave them behind? How dare he run away again? How _dare_ he attempt to go where he could not follow? A change of topic is in order before another furious burst sees his shoes tearing up the grass.

“Kamila’s doing well,” he says. As well as can be expected under the circumstances. “My baby’s taking good care of her.” For too long. He hopes for not much longer. He can’t reunite them all but he will return her father. They will go back home and they will get back some of what they had. He will get his friend back, no matter how long it takes.

He leans his head back, closes his eyes and is suddenly back in their living room laughing on the couch with Alma while Jowd cooks dinner. They’re exchanging stories of their work days, the antics of some of the police officers and detectives, the absurdity of some of her customers’ requests. Jowd pipes up now and then to deflate some of his more exaggerated comments. Little Kamila is on the floor tinkering with something though she refuses to say what. It’s peaceful. Happy.

To think that was only a few days before it happened. There’s been an incident at the Jowd household … Alma dead … Jowd has turned himself in for murder, an impossibility … rapid plans of action … such certainty. Two weeks, a month tops. He’d have it solved.

It hasn’t been solved yet. He still doesn’t know.

He shouldn’t be sitting on this bench alone.

Something brushes against his cheek and he jerks forward, eyes flying open. He freezes and it takes all of his control to look at the space beside him. He’s afraid of not what he might see but of what he won’t.

The bench is empty as expected, but he still feels like the hole she left is ripped open.

He stands. There’s work to be done and he still has _him_ to save. He rests his hand on the cool stone for a moment before turning to leave with a little more haste than usual.

Just the wind and sleep deprived imagination he thinks. Yet as he passes through the cemetery gate some part of him clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, for a moment she sat with him again.


	7. Lullaby

CRACK.

Alma sat bolt upright clutching her blanket. Her heart hammered as fiercely as the rain beating against her window. Just thunder. Only noise. Another loud rumble that she swore shook the walls sent a chill through her.

She got up and grabbed her dressing gown. She was only going to check on Kamila. For Kamila’s sake. She was fine. She was an adult woman, a mother, not desperately wishing Jowd were home at all. Gods above, it was only a storm. A particularly fierce and loud storm.

She wondered if Cabanela was up. The odds were good, as she so often fruitlessly teased him that staying over meant sleeping too. She could use his company even if he was cranky at not being put on the case that had Jowd away.

Alma padded part way down her hall before stopping at the sound of… singing? She tip toed towards Kamila’s room and peeked through the doorway.

Cabanela lounged in the chair beside Kamila’s crib, long legs stretched out in front of him. Alma felt the first smile since she woke up creep in. The image of Cabanela left with children was enough to instill horror in all three of them, perhaps Cabanela most of all – sometimes Alma wasn’t sure if he or Jowd was more horrified at the thought – yet here he was singing lullabies in the middle of the night.

She leaned against the door frame and closed her eyes letting his warm tones wash over her. The wind continued to whistle around the windows, the rain continued to pound and the thunder and lightning made their threats known in turn. Yet, in this small room in the presence of daughter and dearest friend some of her fear faded, enveloped in a warm bubble of safety.

Too soon for her liking Cabanela’s voice faded. She opened her eyes when she felt a presence near her.

“Hey, baby. Thought I’d spaaare you another long night,” Cabanela said.

Alma shifted uncomfortably suddenly feeling foolish. “I woke up. I thought I’d check on Kamila, but… was she upset?”

They moved out of the room into the hall.

“Headin’ that way,” Cabanela replied once they were away from Kamila’s room. “Sleeping souuundly now.”

Another lower rumble caused Alma to twitch. The comfort she found in the room faded, leaving her feeling back on edge.

She waved toward Kamila’s room a little more broadly than she meant to in an attempt to cover her discomfort. “Thank you. For doing that.”

“No proooblem, baby. But, we’re both awake now. Mind keepin’ me company?”

Was she that transparent? Probably, but it was too dim to make out Cabanela’s expression. “That… that sounds good.”

Safely ensconced on the couch, Alma started to feel a bit better even as the weather continued its angry tirade outside.

They idly passed from one topic to another until the storm started to fade into a more distant rumble and gentle patter. They fell quiet and Alma was starting to feel more sleepy than anything.

She became aware of low humming though she couldn’t quite pick out the tune in her growing sleepiness. Whatever it was sounded nice and she found herself drifting deeper and deeper toward sleep.

When Alma awoke the next morning she had a moment of disorientation at finding herself curled up under a blanket on her couch. When she reoriented herself she sighed at the nights events. However there was a trickle of sunlight filtering through the curtains and she could hear Jowd and Cabanela’s voices in the kitchen.

It hadn’t been the best of nights by any stretch, though it certainly could have gone worse. She smiled. The morning was looking to prove far better.


	8. Protective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super spur of the moment thing that would’ve happened in the middle of things. New timeline over protectiveness with ability to be riskier! Well on one side. Not much change for Mr White Coat.

Cabanela made the effort - he certainly did that much, but couldn’t disguise the stagger in his step or the escaped hiss of breath, not from this detective’s eyes.

Jowd suddenly stopped and turned on him. The abrupt motion caused Cabanela to step sideways into the wall and Jowd could tell he was trying not to lean on it while his hand went to his side. Jowd bore down on him and planted one hand against the wall beside him and firmly removed Cabanela’s hand from his side.

“I knew it,” he nearly growled at the sight of blood. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We had mooore important things to take care of including gettin’ out of here. Little bit worse than I realized is all.” He made an idle sort of wave with his free hand. “A few stitches and I’ll be fiiine, baby. Better than the alternative.”

“You shouldn’t have even been here!” Jowd inwardly sighed. He was angrier than he wanted to be, but this was his role. He did not need Cabanela leaping in the way of things. As usual. He could handle it and if something went wrong he was the one with the backup plan. He was the one who was safest.

“Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

“I don’t need you taking hits for me. I would have been fine.”

Now Cabanela’s eyes flashed. “Really, baby? Not the way I saw it. The way things have been lately? Might think you were tryin’ to get yourself killed.”

“I’m fine. I’ve been fine.”

“Until that miraaaculous luck of yours runs out. If you think I’m leavin’ your life to chance you’re not the detective I thought you were, maaan.”

Jowd’s grip around Cabanela’s wrist tightened enough to cause him to wince. He sighed and pulled him forward to sling his arm around his shoulders.

“Come on,” he said shortly. “We need to get you to a hospital and finish cleaning up after this mess.”

“This ain’t over,” Cabanela said, but shifted his weight to Jowd and let him guide the way.

Cabanela made his point perfectly clear. As to whether Jowd would accept it was another matter entirely and not up for discussion here and now, and if he had his way, preferably never.


	9. Over Drinks

“Jooowd, oh Jooowd, this is reality callin’.”

“Hm?” Jowd finally looked up from his glass. “What is it?”

“You’ve been starin’ at your beer for the last ten minutes,” Cabanela said. “I don’t beliiieve it’s about to turn into anything more interesting. What’s on your miiind, baby?”

Jowd took a swig of beer. “I thought of trying one of your concoctions and must have spiralled into horror.”

Cabanela raised his cocktail. “You never know. You might like it.” Far less shocking than if he actually told the truth.

Jowd only laughed. “If another reality called, maybe!”

“We could aaalways try it. Maybe another did.”

Cabanela disguised his frown in another drink. Had he imagined that twitch? He hadn’t expected anything more out of this exchange than the usual bouncing off of Jowd’s walls. If he hit them enough maybe something would crack.

“I think I’ll leave it untested,” Jowd said. “This beer isn’t going to finish itself.”

The easygoing calm was back and Cabanela was willing to let it remain for now. Jowd wasn’t a task for the impatient, but he had a feeling he just scored a point. What it meant was still another matter to think on.

And, the handy thing about cracks was their way of growing and spreading.

_That wall will come down, old friend. On that you caaan be certain._


	10. Case Closed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate post game timeline in which they succeed but time wasn’t reset. Jowd visits Cabanela at the hospital

Jowd left Kamila with Lynne with many hugs and a promise that he would be back soon. There was another he had to visit.

Now that he stood in front of the door of one specific room he found himself stuck. Wasn’t it strange how he hadn’t hesitated to follow the guard to his death, yet here he couldn’t move? He set his shoulders. There was no escaping what awaited him in that small hospital room.

Cabanela appeared asleep when Jowd entered. A blanket covered most signs of injury, but his brow was furrowed.

Sleep was good, Jowd thought as he took a seat next to Cabanela’s bed. He looked to need it - didn’t he always - and he looked bad in the junkyard office. If he slept through this visit it was all for the better. There was no harm in letting talks wait; it was even sensible. He needed rest.

His hopes for a delay were dashed just as all his plans had been trodden on when Cabanela’s eyes opened and fixed on him. A wide smile lit his face and it was then that Jowd knew he’d truly lost. Lost and won.

“About tiiime,” Cabanela said. “I was startin’ to get impatient.”

Only starting? For a moment it felt as though the past five years hadn’t happened. As if this was only another case of Cabanela having overdone it in flinging himself into danger.

“So how about it, baby? Case closed?”

Everything that happened washed over him in a flood of near and far memory. No, there was no wiping away of those years.

“Case closed,” Jowd said simply.

There was so much else to say, so many questions. Why did you do it? How could you throw away five years on me like this? How could you nearly get yourself killed? How do I… what do I… What does one do in return? How does one accept such things?

“I have to say,” Cabanela said while eyeing him appreciatively, taking in the simple white shirt and his old coat, “I prefer this look.”

He reached out and caught hold of Jowd’s hand. “Muuuch better,” he added, his words starting to slur with sleepiness.

Jowd could fairly easily overpower him and had had to do so in the past, but there was no escaping this grip. He never had, he reflected in a fleeting moment of surprise that really wasn’t so surprising at all.

Cabanela’s hold only loosened when his face slackened into a peaceful and deep sleep.

Even so, Jowd remained, letting Cabanela’s hand rest over his.


	11. A Simple Proposal

The evening breeze was warm. The clouds grew coloured with the setting sun - enough to be beautiful while just managing to avoid edging on tacky.

Alma savoured the taste of wine, but not as much as she savoured this moment, sitting on their hill together with the knowledge of what she was about to do next.

She glanced sideways at Jowd beside her. Her heart thudded in her chest – with eagerness or nerves she wasn’t quite sure which – but she told herself it was excitement and only that, thank you very much. He looked far more peaceful than what she felt.

She took a slow deep breath then moved around to sit in front of him and take his large hand in her own.

“Alma?”

Now or never. “I thought of a lot of ideas for what I wanted to do and a certain someone added to them,” she said, “but this is you. Simple is better and honestly, sitting here like this I can’t think of a better way to ask, so…” She took out a ring. “Jowd, will you marry me?”

Jowd stared at her for a moment before his face split with a broad smile and his laughter boomed out over the hill.

Before Alma could decide whether to be affronted, join in, or at least hope this was a good sign, Jowd reached into his pocket. He pulled out a ring.

“Does this answer your question?”

Alma covered her mouth, stifling her own laughter. “You were planning to ask tonight?”

“What is it they say about great minds?”

“Well, I think you know my answer,” Alma said with a grin.

They exchanged rings and Alma fell back against him. He wrapped his arms around her and they stared out across the hill.

Definitely better than any plan she came up with.


End file.
